


Two Roads, One Castle

by LyaStark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Nothing serious, Really just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 05:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyaStark/pseuds/LyaStark
Summary: Jon Snow rushes home to Winterfell to reunite with Arya and Bran.





	Two Roads, One Castle

_Little sister,_ Jon thought as the walls of Winterfell came into view.

Their two very different roads were finally bringing them to the same place at the same time. Putting his heels into his courser, Jon raced for home.

He had ridden ahead of Daenerys’ army to hasten his arrival. As their party drew closer to Winterfell, Jon had grown impatient with the slow pace they were making. His siblings had only been half a day’s ride away. Or at least they would have been if their party wasn’t weighed down by all the wagons and supplies. At the rate the column was traveling, it would take two full days longer.

“Go,” Daenerys told him, seeing how restless he had been. “You’ll make better time on your own. You’ll want to enjoy these reunions without me and my dragons as a distraction.”

“You aren’t-”

“We would be. Go. Your queen and your betrothed command it.”

Jon had smiled. He loved Daenerys all the more for that. She knew what it would mean to him to get to Arya and Bran that much sooner, to hold them for as long as possible before the war came upon them in urgency.

When he had told her of his family, Daenerys had been curious with questions and happy to listen. She smiled and laughed at the stories he told of their years growing up together. But there was also a bittersweet sadness in her features too. He may resent being a bastard among trueborn siblings, but she had only one brother she had known and her happy memories of him were far outnumbered by ones filled with misery and fear.

“Aye, I’ll go,” he had agreed. “I’ll make everything ready for your arrival.”

As he rode through the gates of Winterfell, the sight that greeted him nearly made his heart stop. A young woman in leathers and a blue overskirt ran toward him at full speed, Ghost and a grey wolf racing at her heels.

_Little sister._

Jon all but fell from the horse in his haste to reach her. Arya threw her arms around him and Jon swooped her up, crushing her against him. She rained kisses all over his face while Ghost and the other wolf ran circles around them. The grey one – Nymeria! She must be Nymeria! – threw her head back in a howl that was answered with a distant chorus.

“I knew it was you,” Arya breathed between kisses. “Ghost was tugging at me. He ripped my overskirt! Then the guards called that there was a rider approaching and I ran and… gods I’ve missed you!”

“And I you, little sister.” Jon clutched her tighter. “And I you.”

There was no telling how long they stood there, clinging to each other. But when Bran and Summer arrived, the wolves calmed, and Arya disentangled herself from him.

“Welcome home,” Bran said.

“Bran!” Jon cried.

The tiny shrunken boy he had bidden farewell so many years ago was approaching manhood now. Though Bran looked far stronger, he was a far cry from the boy he had been before the fall. His presence, once lively and energized seemed much more withdrawn and serene. But Jon made no mention of the change. He merely embraced his brother, awkward though it was with the wheeled chair, and gave the gods his thanks that the boy had survived.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Bran said, his voice muffled by Jon’s furs. “We have so much to speak of.”

Jon expected them to go inside, perhaps to one of their solars, but the trio and their wolves retreated to the godswood instead. The awe that came with stepping into the small wood claimed him more fiercely this tie than it ever had before. Mayhaps it was knowing of his brother’s powers or the anticipation of wedding Daenerys before that very tree.

Jon ran his fingers through Arya’s hair and cupped the back of her head. “Tell me everything. I would know all that you’ve been through. Both of you.”

And they told him all. Throughout Arya and Bran’s stories, Jon ran the gambit of emotions from sad to proud to angry to relieved. But it was the last story they told him of their time here in Winterfell that drove him to rage. Sansa and Petyr Baelish had plotted to kill Arya to get her out of the way so they could move against Jon. Only Bran’s intervention saved them all.

“I knew it was wrong to leave her in command,” Jon said, a cold fury making his voice rasp. “I knew it. But she was the only Stark here, so I thought I had to, but…gods be good!”

Jon’s eyes met Arya’s again and he drew her against him. She was taller now, almost a woman grown, yet he struggled against the urge to lift her up into his arms. He had missed so much of her life. He had come so close to losing her for good so many times, the last at the hands of their own sister. Jon clutched her more tightly against him and Arya returned the squeeze.

“It’s over now,” she assured him. “I sentenced Littlefinger to death and executed him myself. He won’t hurt our family again.”

“And Sansa-”

“Is no threat,” Bran said firmly. “The lords and ladies of the North and Vale agree with us. She will have no place in governance again, but she will still be treated with the respect any lady of the North deserves.” Jon watched him turn his gaze to the weirwood face with a weariness no one his age had any right to feel.

“I could have prevented all of this from even beginning.”

“None of this is your fault,” Arya assured him, but Bran didn’t seem convinced.

“If I had claimed my birthright as soon as I returned… But I didn’t. I thought I had to leave Brandon Stark behind and only be the three eyed crow. The truth is, I’m both. I am the Lord of Winterfell and I will honor the oath you made to Queen Daenerys.”

Jon stepped back, keeping his hands upon Arya’s shoulders. “And you? You forgive her?”

Arya met his gaze unflinching. “She’s our sister. She’s part of our pack. Father told me that the lone wolf dies and the pack survives. With winter here, we have to protect and help each other. We can’t have fights between us. Not now. What Sansa did is done.”

Drawing in a deep breath and slowly blowing out the fury within him, Jon resolved to honor Bran and Arya’s decision regarding their sister. But when he saw Sansa next, he would be sure to inform her that she owed Bran her life. Had her plans gone through, had she murdered Arya… Jon’s chest tightened at the very thought of it. He would have beheaded her and Baelish himself had they succeeded.

But he wouldn’t continue down that path.  There was still so much to discuss and prepare for, both a wedding and a war, and a good deal of hugging his siblings before that all came crashing down on them.


End file.
